Sky:

Every year, when the leaves turn yellow and the air turns sweet, my family starts making room in our trunk to start packing for our annual hike. While it may be common, going hiking during fall has been my family’s Thanksgiving tradition ever since I can remember. Out of all the places we’ve set foot in, our favorite reserve is the Mohonk mountain, and the endless photos in our camera roll and albums on our walls prove its merit. Usually, the tradition will start a week before, with a family discussion in our group chat or at the dinner table. Because both my parents work and my brother and I are juniors, it has gotten a little harder over the past years to schedule a time that works for all of us, but we try our best to be considerate of each other. After deciding on the day we’ll go, my dad will start going through each box in our garage and basement, trying to find the right hiking shoes for my mom, small bags we can carry, hiking sticks, etc. While the drive to the reserve is a bit painful, when you get on the mountain itself, your mind goes blank — almost like someone just emptied your trash. The crisp fall air strikes your nose the more you hike and the heavier you breathe, and your feet start to latch onto the rocks and dirt on the ground. There are some routes on the hike that my family has found to be more interesting, so sometimes we change sides as we go. By the time we get to the top of the mountain, there is a sense of unity and bonding even through the sweat and tiredness, and I always end up sitting on the ground, breathing in and out, trying to catch every glimpse of the fall scenery. The leaves are so small, yet they fill such a big portion of the sky, and every time the breeze shakes them, it looks as though they are dancing. It is not long from then, we start unpacking our bags and enjoying the food we packed that morning. Taking selfies and group photos, we talk about how we think this year went, and hope to come back next year.

Avery:

If I am being completely honest, Thanksgiving has never been my preferred holiday. By this time of year my mind is already shifted to snow, gingerbread cookies, and listening to “Last Christmas” by Wham! on repeat. For me, it was a dinner in which all my aunts and uncles would barrage my brother and I with endless questions, and the only thing on the table I was interested in was the mashed potatoes.

Most years, my family alternates celebrating holidays between my mother and my father’s side. This usually means Thanksgiving with my mother’s family in New Jersey, and Christmas with my dad’s family in Virginia.

However, this year is a special case in which both groups will be gathered at my own house. People of different backgrounds and cultures will be in the same place at the same time. I couldn’t be happier, and I have come to realize that my changed feelings surrounding this year’s Thanksgiving are largely due to the fact that my appreciation for gathering with loved ones has grown. Although things have improved in the last two years, the pandemic put my extended family at a reach that is much greater than just the distance separating us, in that most of our interactions involved FaceTimes and six-feet-apart greetings outside. My brother left for college just this August, leaving me as an only child and the only teenager in the house.

So as I look forward to November 24, I visualize the warm lights in the living room, faint yet cheerful laughs over the jazz music, a smörgåsbord of pies and cookies spread out across the wooden table, and most importantly, the faces of both sides of my family bonding together when they would have otherwise been in two completely different states.

Something I will encourage my father to play again is my favorite piece of music traditionally used at fall gatherings: the Charlie Brown theme music by the Vince Guaraldi Trio. The subtle yet peppy piano layered into each song always puts me in a fall mood. In terms of dessert (my preferred part of the meal), my aunt always brings pies of extravagant flavors to the table. The bakeries she gets them from are unfamiliar to me yet deserving of a Michelin star. This year there will be flavors such as honey and chocolate chess, both of which already make my mouth water.

With all this to look forward to, I imagine myself in a painting that seems perfect, a glittering masterpiece that encapsulates the joy of getting to catch up with one another over a special meal. For that, I am lucky to recognize the art my family seems to create on Thanksgiving.

Marina:

On most days, turkey would be near the bottom of my list of top choices of food to eat since I’ve always thought of it as one of the blandest proteins. But, Thanksgiving is not one of those days.

My parents and I, having moved to the U.S. from Brazil in 2009, have no historical family tradition or connection to Thanksgiving, which allowed us to create our own reasons to celebrate this day. From the moment we moved here, we have met countless Brazilian families in the area, and though some have moved away and many new ones have arrived, we have always maintained a group that is our found family abroad, the people who we celebrate our “friendsgiving” with.

Unafraid to stray from classic American food traditions, my parents and the other adults have made many attempts at different Thanksgiving menus. However, after tantrums by five-year-olds over duck instead of turkey and ceviche instead of stuffing, and one year’s somewhat underwhelming suckling pig (though nowadays I would love both options), the turkey somehow remained champion. However, by no means does this mean my dad makes your standard, basic, dry turkey. Every year he has always strived to do better than the last, putting all his energy into a five-day cooking preparation. And without fail, whenever he pulls the 25-pound turkey out from his Big Green Egg barbecue grill, it comes out with a beautifully crisped, caramel-colored skin, and with the most tender meat that will melt off the bone. The turkey is always the star of the show at our dinner, and all 30+ guests marvel throughout the rest of the year, waiting for that Thursday in November when they actually feel like eating turkey.

Sophie:

Other than the anticipation of finally seeing old friends, eating delicious food, and getting a break, the most wonderful part of Thanksgiving is none other than the feeling of togetherness. It’s the one day designated for us to take time off just to spend time with the people we love.

Unfortunately, my extended family lives across the world in China, so they don’t get the pleasure of getting this day off. My parents, having no experience with preparing Thanksgiving dinner or the “conventional” traditions of this holiday, started their own by blending our two cultures: American and Chinese.

For starters, my parents would wake up early in the morning to prepare a meal for all of our family friends, and the aroma of green beans, bok choy, potatoes, beef, and lasagna — a strangely eccentric combo — would fill up our kitchen. As well, instead of the classic turkey, my parents would boil a chicken and soak it in rice wine to bring out its tangy flavor. Friends would start coming by late afternoon, with the adults chattering and relaxing on the couch while children played ping pong and watched whatever was on the TV.

Aside from my favorite dish, tiramisu, we would end the night with a bit of karaoke. Mostly the adults would start playing around with the machine until they found a pop song or nursery rhymes — all in Chinese — and soon everyone else would be giggling and waiting for their turn to choose a “good” song. Although I am fluent in the language, reading Chinese characters is quite a struggle for me, so I just watch and lay on the couch, marveling at my parents’ annual concert and laughing with everybody.